If heaven has a house band, you can be sure Leonard Cohen will lead it.

But heaven will have to wait.

The 75-year-old poet laureate of women, wine and song performed an unlikely Las Vegas miracle Thursday night, turning The Colosseum at Caesars Palace into a sacred temple, with his songs of love, loss and longing serving as soundtrack to some sort of spiritual celebration.

Three songs into the show, Cohen sang that he had heard angels declare: "Ain't no cure for love." As light burned through the stage's flowing white curtain, I was not only willing to believe him -- I was hearing them myself. Ask anyone in the house. It was that kind of night.

Cohen, dressed in a sharp suit befitting a gangster, put in a Springsteen-worthy performance, playing for more than three hours, with a 25-minute break between sets. Shortly after 8 p.m., he bounded onto the stage, doffed his fedora to the audience and launched into "Dance Me To The End Of Love," kneeling before guitarist Javier Mas for a pseudo serenade. A few minutes later, during "The Future," Cohen tapped his toes, locked his knees together and executed what looked like a brief moonwalk.

A superb nine-piece band, led by bassist Roscoe Beck and including drummer Rafael Gayol, guitarists Mas and Bob Metzger, reed player Dino Soldo and organist Neil Larsen, provided a canvas for Cohen to paint his words upon.

"We've played some unlikely places, and I don't know when we'll pass through this way again," Cohen told the crowd. "But it is our intention to give you everything we have tonight."

That was 22 songs over two sets and a three-part, six-song encore, encompassing, as Cohen once put it, everything from "the latest hit to the wisdom of old." After a 15-year hiatus, Cohen clearly enjoyed being back in the spotlight, clenching his fist to his chest as he sang, "take one last look at this sacred heart before it blows" in "Everybody Knows."

Visibly looser in the second set, he donned an acoustic guitar and played two new songs, one of which could hint at the trouble that spurred his surprise world tour.

In 2005, he sued his former manager and lover, alleging she had misappropriated millions from his retirement fund. In the bluesy "The Darkness," Cohen sings:

"I should have seen the darkness It was right behind your eyes All those pools so deep and heartless I just had to take a dive Yeah but winning you was easy But the darkness was the price."

Still, the mood in the room was anything but dark. Cohen and the band were often bathed in white light, offering exultations to the heavens. "Hallelujah" was, well, a revelation. Cohen dropped to his knees, singing, "I tell the truth, I did not come to the palace of Caesar to fool you." The crowd went nuts. Cohen seemed genuinely humbled by the response. Returning from intermission, he told the crowd: "Thank you for not going back to the casino."

Special praise to backup singer and collaborator Sharon Robinson, who sang a riveting solo rendition of "Boogie Street," and the Webb sisters, Charley and Hattie, who dueted on "If It Be Your Will," complete with harp. If the band could be faulted for anything, it's Soldo's intensity. The wind player, while excellent, strayed into Kenny G country too often.

During the encore, he danced and galloped off the stage -- and skipped back for more, his deep, gravelly bass-baritone sounding stronger than ever. Comically, he returned to the stage for the third time to finish with "I Tried To Leave You."

To paraphrase Cohen, that was one hell of a way to say goodbye.

Set list■Dance Me To The End Of Love■The Future■Ain't No Cure For Love■Bird On The Wire■Everybody Knows■In My Secret Life■Who By Fire■Chelsea Hotel No. 2■Waiting For The Miracle■Anthem■INTERMISSION■Tower Of Song■Suzanne■Sisters of Mercy■The Gypsy's Wife■The Other Blues Song■The Darkness■The Partisan■Boogie Street (Sharon Robinson solo)■Hallelujah■I'm Your Man■A Thousand Kisses Deep (spoken)■Take This Waltz■ENCORE■So Long, Marianne■First We Take Manhattan■Famous Blue Raincoat■If It Be Your Will (featuring the Webb Sisters)■Closing Time■I Tried To Leave You

Last night was the Leonard Cohen concert. My full review is now posted on The Opening Acts music site. [ http://www.theopeningacts.com/2009/11/t ... rs-palace/ ] If you've reached The Neon Lounge from my review's "continuation-link" at The Opening Acts, welcome to my humble abode. It will help you to know that I live in Las Vegas and I'm a bellman at the hotel where Cohen's concert took place last night. If you want to read about my anticipation for this concert, it may help to read my two other Leonard Cohen posts. [ http://neonlounge.blogspot.com/search/l ... %20Concert ]

Thanks to a friendly usher, my seat in the nose-bleed section was upgraded to the second orchestra section. My original seat in the upper tier wasn't bad at all, but the height gave me the eebie-jeebies. That upper tier is a lot higher than it looks in the wide-angled photo and I think I was battling vertigo during the few minutes I was sitting there. Luckily, my new seat was next to some co-workers that got tickets from Cohen's tour director. I was among friends! It was a great show but things got even better today.

This morning during my shower (and while singing "Dance Me To The End of Love") I decided when I got to work, I was going to volunteer my services if anyone from Cohen's party needed luggage assistance upon their departure. My fellow bellman didn't mind, as most of them know nothing about Leonard. On the way out the door, I grabbed my copy of Cohen's book, Beautiful Losers... just in case.

At 10:30, my pager beeped and I was summoned to the bell desk where I met Cohen's travel manager. He gave me a list of twenty rooms and asked to have all the luggage at the side entrance of the hotel by 11:30. It was a two-man job. I got a fellow bellman, Ron (who was also at the show last night) to help me. Being I had to divide the list of rooms between Ron and myself, I quickly searched for the penthouse-number that Lenny was staying in... but there were no penthouses on the list. I scanned the names on the list, recognizing the names of the musicians who I had seen on stage last night, but no Leonard. There were also names of other people, I assume his managers and the like. Then, I noticed the first name on the list was a rather amusing, generic name. The occupant was staying in a standard suite. Cohen is a practical man. The name had to be Leonard's alias.

Fun note: When Johnny Depp stayed at Caesars while filming Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas, he used the alias "Johnny Stench."

I knocked on the door and heard the Golden Voice. I opened the door and there was Mr. Cohen, pushing a large suitcase in my direction.

"This is one big and heavy fella," he said.

"That's okay, I'm use to it," I replied with a laugh.

"Mr. Cohen, your show last night was incredible. Really... just amazing."

"Why thank-you."

"I'm a long-time fan and it was just so great to finally see you perform."

"Thank-you, thank you very much."

"Are you departing the same time as the luggage at 11:30?"

"No, I have someone picking me up."

It was then I knew this was my one and only chance. I would probably never see him again. I've never asked anyone at work for a photo or autograph and really, never have been tempted to... until now.

"Mr. Cohen?"

He looked at me blankly.

"If I were to tell you I brought my copy of Beautiful Losers with me, would you be so inclined to sign it for me?" That's exactly how I asked, being the tactful yet awestruck bellman I was at 11am this morning.

"Sure, certainly, let me get my pen."

"I have a pen." It was a fatter-than-desired black Sharpie, but a Sharpie nonetheless.

I pulled my book out of the Napoleon-pocket inside my jacket. All morning I had been walking around the hotel looking like I was wearing a Kevlar bullet-proof vest. Moments later Mr. Cohen appeared, wearing his small, round, tinted glasses. I spelled-out my unique name to him. I love the way he wrote the letter "G."

"Thank you SO much. I can't tell you how much your music means to me and last night was phenomenal." It came out more of a stammer than a fluid sentence.

"Well thank-you, thank-you very much... and your welcome."

I could barely function for the rest of the day and in fact, left work early.

As things turned out, the top-ten names on my half of the departure list included all of Cohen's musicians. Ron's half of the list had all the behind-the-scenes people. I continued doing my bag-pull and was able to personally thank nearly all the musicians, including Sharon Robinson. When I commented on how great the show was, many of them replied with, "Oh! You went last night?" Almost half-surprised that a Vegas bellman would appreciate the music of Leonard Cohen.

Each time, my reply was, "I wouldn't have missed it for the world."

FiN.

Last edited by sturgess66 on Sat Nov 14, 2009 7:58 am, edited 1 time in total.

Many entertainers performing in Las Vegas are aware of a malady known as “Vegas Throat.” Due to this city’s arid climate, singers with sensitive vocals often have a problem adapting to the low humidity. When seventy-five year old Leonard Cohen took the stage last night at the Caesars Palace Colosseum, I feared the already raspy and baritone-voiced icon was suffering the dreaded affliction. Luckily, it was a false alarm. I know Mr. Cohen has a beautifully rough voice to begin with, but last night, his initial vocals sounded like a worn-out piece of sixty-grit sandpaper. Thankfully, it soon eased into a fine and shining-bright package of steel wool. By the end of the third song, “Ain’t No Cure For Love,” his voice was coming alive and at five songs in, with the demanding “Everybody Knows,” Leonard’s unique harmonising was right up there where it should be, just below his backing vocalists, the superb Sharon Robinson and Webb Sisters.

And things just kept getting better. During “In My Secret Life,” Cohen sang the sweet and low-down lyrics while facing toward Robinson, the song’s co-writer and Leonard’s long-time collaborator. After a phenomenal Latino-influenced intro by Javier Mas playing his twelve-string bandurria on “Who By Fire,” Cohen had not only reached one-hundred percent, but surpassed it. Cohen was now the casanova to the bossa nova.

After a brief intermission, the impeccable troubadour resumed with “Tower of Song,” the audience cheering when he sang, “I was born like this, I had no choice, I was born with the gift of a golden-voice…” Cohen sang both of his new songs, the first titled (presumably) “Feels So Good.” If Cohen’s “Ain’t No Cure For Love” is his red valentine, then “Feels So Good” (not to love you like I did) is his blackened, but healed heart; an incredible song. The second new song of the night was a blues number known as “Darkness.”

One of the many highlights of the night was when keyboardist Neil Larsen left his Hammond organ and played accordion on “The Partisan.” I got chills when the lyrics turned to the French language.

Cohen gave the floor to Robinson on “Boogie Street,” Cohen respectfully standing out of the light, holding his hat as he often did during the extended solos of his fellow musicians. He also gave the Webb Sisters their turn in the spotlight on “If It Be Your Will.” Their voices, guitar and harp were angelic.

“Hallelujah” received the standing ovation it deserved and “I’m Your Man” received multiple laughs as Cohen improvised the lyrics with, “…I’ll wear an old man’s mask if you want me to…”. A handful of women screamed during the song, screams that would have made Tom Jones jealous.

After the second encore, and just when some thought Cohen was running out of steam, he sang the fast-paced “Closing Time,” spewing the lyrics forth like ticker-tape from a well-oiled human machine. He only came up for air when it was finally time to do the evening’s closer, “I Tried to Leave You.”

During the show, I sat next to a family of three, including a teenage girl, who all came to the show without having heard Leonard Cohen ever before. The last I saw them, they were walking out of the Colosseum ten-feet in the air… and I was walking behind them, at least another five-feet higher.

Mr. Cohen was magnanimous. He was also very humble. He held onto his microphone (and even a teddy bear that was thrown on stage) like they were both indeed, crucifixes. He gracefully transcended the age groups and the different walks of life that were in attendance. Everyone left the show knowing they had just witnessed something very special.

I arrived home from the show a little after midnight. I stayed up until 2am writing the draft for this post. Had I known I was going to come face to face with the legendary Mr. Leonard Cohen the very next morning, I would have made it a point to get a better night’s sleep. Actually, that’s a lie. Had I know I was going to meet him, I wouldn’t have slept at all.

gijs wrote:did you noticed there was a tone played by Cohen, a half tone to low in the beginning of the song?
amazing

Yes - you are right. "Everybody knows the plague is coming" - he goes up a semitone on the words "knows" and "plague." He also hold the mic in his left hand sometimes in this performance - with the cord falling to the stage.

Hey All! Leonard was absolutely AWESOME in Las Vegas. As CasterbridgeCohen noted, some of the arrangements were different from older shows (but equally as fabulous), and Leonard himself sang some of the songs a bit differently, hitting more high notes, and just basically being amazing! His voice was in absolute top form, as was he! Lots of skipping, lots of grooving, it was a delight to watch him! I'm so happy to have been there. I'm still floating around in a state of bliss!

And to all of the forum members I met there, thanks for making the experience extra-special. It was a blast to hang out with you guys!

His voice was husky, seductive and more than a little worn around the edges, a coiled snake of sensuality.

In song, Leonard Cohen once claimed to have a heart of ice, and yet his tunes could melt a glacier with all their libidinal heat.

The man's crazy for love, his repertoire being his padded cell.

"Love is not a victory march," he purred at one point Thursday at the Colosseum at Caesars Palace. "It's a cold and it's a broken hallelujah."

"Hallelujah," the song in question, was a triumphant sounding, lump-in-the-throat hymnal that Cohen sang from his knees in a penitent pose.

"I did not come to the palace of Caesar to fool you," he added moments later, earnest as can be.

Cohen's skilled at filling a room with lots of dark clouds, but in the end, most of them prove to have a nickel-plated lining.

He sees the beauty in decay, the promise in imperfection.

"Ring the bells that still can ring, forget your perfect offering," he sang on "Anthem." "There is a crack in everything. That's how the light gets in."

As such, his show on Thursday was a joyous, spirited occasion, even when Cohen was questioning his own fate.

"I see no future, I know my days are few," he growled during the hard-eyed blues swing of "The Darkness," a new tune that sounded far more invigorated than resigned.

This was a constant of the evening.

Playing with a six-piece band and a trio of backing singers, including longtime collaborator Sharon Robinson and the sublime Webb Sisters, Cohen turned in loose-limbed, slightly more full-bodied versions of standards like "Chelsea Hotel No. 2" and "Bird on the Wire," rendering many of them spry, self-aware waltzes that somehow managed to feel both upbeat and downcast at once.

Cohen seemed determined to match the energy of his band, skipping on and off the stage like he had bedsprings for legs, smiling broadly, singing with his knees pressed together, harnessing the full force of his dapper frame.

Performing on a sparsely appointed stage, bathed in red and purple hues, Cohen and his band often appeared as dark silhouettes in an even darker room.

It created an intimate, unguarded atmosphere that suited Cohen's material well and to which the rapturous, near-capacity crowd responded as if he were serenading each and every one of them individually.

If Cohen's catalog is capable of stirring such passions, it's no secret why. There is precious little ambivalence in his works. He thrusts himself headfirst into the love, longing, rapture and defeat that defines much of it.

There's seldom any middle ground amidst it all, and this kind of uninhibitedness can be intoxicating.

"Give me Christ, or give me Hiroshima," he sang during the punchy shuffle of "The Future," and that pretty much says it all.

And yet, it's all delivered with a knowing wink, a palpable lack of pretense despite the poetic license in which Cohen freely indulges.

To wit, he ended his nearly three-hour performance with an extended "I Tried to Leave You," a song that took on a double meaning as Cohen sung it in a voice so deep, it occasionally mimicked the drone of a didgeridoo.

"Good night my darling, I hope you're satisfied," he sang, addressing a former flame and the crowd in the same breath. "Here's a man still working for your smile."